Clock in the Sky
by Eternal Silver Flame
Summary: The Monkees ON HIATUS, UNDER CONSTRUCTION. During a winter vacation in Malibu, Audrey Reynolds finds an artifact from the Monkees' TV show, and it throws her back in time. Will she be able to find her way back, or will she be stuck in the past forever?
1. Magic Locket

Clock in the Sky

Chapter One

_Magic Locket_

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_**Author's Note:**__ Hello all you people. This one's my second attempt at a _Monkees _fan fiction. Hopefully, I'll finish it. _

_If you don't know me, I tend to forget to give physical descriptions of my characters. Therefore, I'm going to do it now, to get it out of the way. Audrey Reynolds is twenty-one years old when the story starts. She's 5'4", has straight shoulder-length black hair and dark brown eyes. Her cousins, Emma and Bella, are seven and eleven years old, respectively. What they look like isn't important, because this is the only chapter they make an appearance in. _

_I did my best with the description of the magic locket. It took a while to decide on what the silver shape was in the center of the locket. I discarded a Celtic knot, a dragon, and a winged horse, before I decided on a man riding a horse. I couldn't find any close-up pictures of it on the internet, so I had to use the season two DVD, which I'm lucky I have. So if you know for sure what it is, please let me know. _

_Happy 65th Birthday, Peter Tork! _

_**Summary:** (The Monkees) During a winter vacation in Malibu, Audrey Reynolds finds an artifact from the Monkees' TV show, and it throws her back in time. Will she be able to find her way back, or will she be stuck in the past forever? _

_**Disclaimer:**__ I wish I owned the Monkees. But I don't. SIGH. I suppose I should also say that the title was taken from "Porpoise Song," from the Monkees movie _Head_. It's my favorite Monkees song. Yay! I also don't own _MAD _magazine or TV Land. Dude, if I owned TV Land, _The Monkees _would SO be on there._

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_**Author's Note Part II (02/13/09):** So, two years later, I'm changing things around. I'm pushing this back three years, to 1965. 2005 remains the same, so there's now a 40-year gap instead of a 37-year gap. I've also changed Bella's age to eleven, but since it's not important in CITS, I doubt any of you care. So, Emma is seven and Bella is eleven. _

_Incidentially, Happy 67th Birthday, Peter Tork. Hehehe. _

* * *

"Marco!"

"Polo!"

"Marco!"

"Po– Hey! You opened your eyes, I saw it!"

"I did not!"

"You did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

I rolled my eyes and looked over the top of my magazine. "Emma! Bella! Cut it out and play fair!"

My two younger cousins turned from where they were playing Marco Polo out in the water. "Sorry, Audrey!" they chorused, and then returned to their game.

It was December 21, 2005. I was spending my winter vacation in Malibu with my mother's side of the family. It was so nice to get away from Montana, where it was really getting cold. It was about sixty degrees in Malibu, which was great, compared to the twenty degrees we had left behind in Montana.

It was the second day of our vacation. Bella and Emma really wanted to go swimming, so my mother and I had offered to take them to get them out of my aunt and uncle's hair for a while. We thought it was still a bit cold to be swimming in the ocean, but Bella and Emma certainly didn't think so. They were having a great time. Mom and I were laying on beach towels on shore. Every once in a while, Mom would take pictures of the girls in the water, or of me reading the latest issue of _MAD_ magazine.

I had been born in Nashville, Tennessee, and we lived there until Dad passed away when I was seventeen. He had been diagnosed with cancer less than a year before, but it had been too far along for any treatment to have much effect, and he died in June of 2001. Four months later, Mom and I moved to Choteau, Montana, where we were closer to her side of the family. I finished high school, and then went to a local community college for a two-year degree in Music Education. After I finished there last spring, I moved out of my mom's house. I didn't go far, moving into an apartment on the other side of town. I hadn't yet gone back to school, as I was saving up to move out of my apartment and buy my own house.

Boredom finally got the better of me, and I closed my magazine and sat up, stretching. "I'm gonna go for a walk down the beach," I said to Mom as I stood.

"Okay," she said. "Don't go too far."

"I won't," I promised, and started off. I walked for about five minutes before I decided to turn around and head back. As I was turning, I noticed something glittering in the sand by my feet. Curious, I knelt down and brushed some of the sand off the object, revealing a thick twisted gold chain. I picked it up. Attached to the chain was a round, gold locket about three inches in diameter. In the center was a silver figure of a man on a horse.

My mouth fell open in shock when I recognized the locket. It was the magic locket from the "Fairy Tale" episode of _The Monkees_.

Or, at least, something that looked very similar to it. Still, I muttered "Sweet!" to myself. _The Monkees_ was my favorite TV show, even though the series ended nearly forty years ago, in 1968. It was about a rock-and-roll group living in a beach house in Malibu. Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork compromised the band. They turned out to be a huge hit, selling more records than the Beatles and Elvis combined. I had gotten hooked on _The Monkees_ when I had seen a few episodes on TV Land a few years ago. Both of my parents had been fans of the show when it was on the air in the sixties, and I had received all of Dad's original vinyl records when he died.

If you asked me which of the Monkees was my favorite, I wouldn't be able to decide. I liked each of them equally, though for different reasons. Mike was the serious one, and I really liked the green wool hat he always wore on the show. Micky was the funny one, always ready with a joke. Davy was the cute one from Manchester who was in love with a different girl every week. And Peter was the lovable dummy who played the banjo, which was a totally awesome instrument.

I held the locket by the pendant and brushed a few bits of stray sand off of it. _I wonder what it would be like to meet the Monkees,_ I thought idly.

Suddenly, there was a bright flash of white light, and I was thrown backwards. I landed hard on my back and the locket flew out of my hand. I laid there for a moment, completely shocked. "What _was_ that?" I muttered to myself, sitting up and rubbing my now-sore back.

I froze when I noticed my surroundings. Everything had changed. The sun was no longer shining brightly, but hiding behind a thick layer of clouds. The waves were rougher, and I was surrounded by a cluster of large rocks that hadn't been there a moment before.

I stood up, now beginning to panic. "Where the hell am I?" I asked out loud.

"Are you all right?" came an English voice. I spun around, intending to ask whoever it was what was going on, but the words died on my lips when I realized who I was looking at. I stared at him with wide eyes, thinking I had suddenly gone inexplicably insane.

I was looking at a 1960's version of Davy Jones. He was slightly shorter than me, wearing a pale blue button-up shirt and dark grey pants. His hair was just as it had been on the show, and his mock-sideburns came down to just past his ears.

Davy was apparently getting a bit unnerved by my stare. "Miss?"

_Davy isn't in his twenties!_ my mind screamed. _He's fifty-nine! This isn't right!_ My panic now full-blown, I did the first thing I could think of: turn and run.

Or I tried to, anyway. I had only taken a few steps before I tripped over one of the big rocks, and everything went black.

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_**Author's Note:** Yay! Did you like it? You should tell me. See the little button down there? All you have to do is push it and type a sentence or two. Go for it! I love you all!_


	2. The Pad

Clock in the Sky

Chapter Two

_The Pad_

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_**Author's Note:**__ Just to give you some sort of time frame, Audrey wakes up at about noon, an hour after she blacks out. I don't have anything else to say, so...read on!_

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_**Author's Note Part II (02/13/09):** Fixed it up, blah, blah, blah. See the Author's Note Part II for chapter one. _

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I slowly faded into consciousness and opened my eyes blearily. Slowly, I realized I was in a bed that wasn't mine. It wasn't even my bed at the hotel in Malibu. I sat up and grabbed my head when it throbbed painfully. I tried to remember how I had gotten there. I had seen Davy Jones, of all people, and then I tripped...The rest was a blank. I sighed. _It was probably just a dream,_ I thought. _I mean, what are the odds? Coming face-to-face with Davy Jones, looking just as he had nearly forty –_

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt as I finally got a good look at the room I was in. There were four beds, and two of them were against two of the three windows in the room. The windows were covered in colored beads. There was a record player on the dresser by the door, trapeze rings hung from the ceiling, and there was a figurehead of mermaid on the wall near my bed.

I was in the Monkees' bedroom.

"Oh my God," I muttered. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" I scrambled out of what was, if I remembered correctly, Micky Dolenz's bed. The room spun, and I sat down on the floor abruptly. My heart was hammering and my head was pounding. This was impossible, wasn't it? I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. _Ow,_ I thought. _Right, so I'm not dreaming._ I stood up slowly and began pacing in the empty room, trying to figure out my situation, and trying to ignore my pounding headache. _I'm either really here, or I'm on the set. It's not too likely that they kept the sets after the show ended, so I'm probably really here. Or I've gone insane. But, man! What a great way to go insane! I could meet the Monkees!_ Now convinced that I had gone insane (and taking it strangely well), I left the room.

I found myself on a balcony overlooking the lower level. I stared in awe at the Monkees' pad. On the bandstand were a bass guitar, a twelve-string, a six-string, a keyboard, and a drum set, complete with the Monkees logo. The large bay windows behind the drum set showed the real sun high in the sky, not a painted backdrop. A clock on the wall said it was nearly noon, and I wondered how long I'd been out. There was a jukebox standing against a wall, and a totem pole was sitting in a corner. In the middle of the room, there was a couch facing an old-fashioned TV set.

And, reading part of the newspaper at the kitchen table, was a man with dirty-blonde hair that covered his ears and was parted neatly on the left side. He wore a blue-and-white striped shirt and dark blue slacks. It was Peter Tork. I stared at him for a moment, and then started down the spiral staircase.

Peter looked up and put the newspaper down on the table when he saw me. "You're awake!"

"Yeah." I stopped at the bottom of the stairs for a moment and stared at the sign that read, 'In case of fire – run!' Then I slowly started for the table. "Listen," I said, putting a hand to my still-throbbing head, "do you have any uh, painkillers, or something?"

"Oh! Yes, we do." He pushed his chair back, smiling nervously. "You can, uh, have a seat, and – and I'll go get it."

Peter disappeared into what had been his and Davy's bedroom in the first season, and I sat next to the monkey at the table. I began to wonder how I was going to explain my behavior towards Davy. I decided it would be best to just play dumb. That, or play the amnesia card.

I looked around. On a long table sat the rubber gavel, and sitting behind the same table, was Mr. Schneider, the wooden dummy. I resisted the urge to go over there and pull his string. On the wall hung the embroidered sign, "Money is the root of all evil." The icebox wasn't multicolored, telling me that this was either during or after the first season. Out of curiosity, I pulled the comics, which Peter had been reading, toward me and looked at the date.

Tuesday, December 21, 1965. _Damn._ I had travelled back in time forty years, to some dimension where the Monkees really _were_ an out-of-work rock band living in a Malibu beach house.

Peter returned with the painkillers and filled a glass with water from the sink. Then he returned to his seat and gave me the pills and water. "Thanks...uh..." I stared at him for a moment before he figured out that he hadn't yet introduced himself.

"Oh, I'm Peter," he said shyly, smiling. "What's your name?"

I opened my mouth, then closed it and sighed. Time to do some acting. "I don't know."

Peter looked very confused. "You don't know your name?"

"I...don't remember it. I can't remember much of anything. Why does my head hurt so much?"

Peter looked concerned. "Davy said you tried to run away from him, but you tripped and hit your head on a rock."

I winced. _Smooth, Audrey,_ I thought, then asked, "Davy? Was he that short guy with the English accent?"

He nodded. "Yeah, that's Davy. What do you remember?"

I sat back in my chair. "Well, the first thing I remember is sitting on the beach. Then I started freaking out, 'cause I couldn't remember anything. And then Davy asked me if something was wrong, and I guess I just panicked."

"So you don't know where you live?" I shook my head. Peter seemed to contemplate something. "You could stay with us, I'm sure Mike won't mind."

I was taken aback. "Oh, no, I couldn't – "

"We have a spare bedroom. Besides, we can't just throw you out on the streets with nowhere to go! It's almost Christmas, after all."

I bit my lip nervously. "If you're sure it's no trouble..."

"Well, Mr. Babbit, our landlord, might try to raise our rent or something, but what he doesn't know won't hurt him." Peter smiled happily, his dimples showing. "When the guys get back from the store, you can meet them. And you'll need a name so I can introduce you right."

I thought for a moment. Deciding it would be best to go with my real name, I said, "What d'ya think of Audrey?"

He nodded. "It fits you."

Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz, and Davy Jones returned half an hour later, Micky carrying a grocery bag. Mike was the tallest, of course, and he wore his green wool hat. When Peter introduced me, he gave me a friendly nod and went to help Micky put away the groceries. Micky's hair was straight, and he shook my hand as enthusiastically as he could without dropping the grocery bag. Davy gave me a small wave, and I apologized for trying to run away from him earlier. After everyone had been introduced and the groceries had been put away, Peter and I explained my situation to the others.

"Can she stay, Mike?" Peter begged.

"I could get a job to help with the rent," I offered.

"Yeah, Mike," said Micky. "Rudy said the record shop was looking for help."

"It _is_ Christmas, Mike," Davy reminded him.

"All right," Mike said finally. I sighed in relief. At least I wouldn't be spending Christmas on a park bench.

"Great!" Micky exclaimed. "I can take you down to the record shop later."

I suddenly realized that all I had to wear capris and the t-shirt I was wearing. It could pass, but it wasn't real sixties style. "Do you know any girls who could loan me some clothes?" I gestured at my outfit. "This is all I have."

"Melanie could," offered Davy.

"Melanie?" Micky smirked. "Is she your latest girl?"

Davy ignored him and went to call Melanie.

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_**Author's Note:** Hooray! How did it go? How did it go? How did it go? Hehehe. I'm a bit of an odd duck, aren't I? Seriously, though, let me know what you think!_


	3. New Clothes and a Job

Clock in the Sky

Chapter Three

_New Clothes and a Job_

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_**Author's Note:**__ Just so you know, I'm aware that there's a terrible lack of Monkees fic on this site (and on the internet in general), so I'm not really expecting anyone to review. Not that I don't want you to, it's just that I know there's not a huge _Monkees _fan base out there anymore, not like _Harry Potter_. Yeah. I just felt like I had to say that. _

_Happy 62nd Birthday to Micky Dolenz! _

_**Disclaimer:** The exterior and name of the record shop came from a real groovy little shop in downtown West Des Moines, Iowa, called Atomic Garage. If you're ever in the area, you should totally stop by there. _

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_**Author's Note Part II (02/13/09):** Blah, blah, blah, changed things. Yeah. _

* * *

There was a knock on the door at one-thirty. Mike, Micky, and Davy were playing a card game at the kitchen table with Mr. Schneider, and I was listening to Peter play Cripple Creek on his banjo. Mike went to the door and opened the peep hole, then closed it with a snap.

"It's Babbitt!" he exclaimed quietly, spinning around to face us. Peter stopped playing, and Micky and Davy looked up from their cards. "Man, if he finds out Audrey's staying here, he'll want to raise the rent!"

"I'll hide," I said, and hurried into the spare room. I listened through the door.

"Why, hello, Mr. Babbitt!" said Mike, in an almost too cheery voice. "What brings you here?"

"I want this month's rent," demanded Babbitt.

There was a short silence. I tried to keep from laughing. _They don't have it, do they?_

"We're a little short on cash right now, Mr. Babbitt," said Mike, "but we got a gig on Thursday, we can pay you then."

"You're always late on your rent – "

"Hey, man," said Micky, "it's Christmas, give us a break!"

Another short silence. "Fine. But I expect to see it on Thursday, or it's out you go!" The door slammed.

Melanie arrived an hour later, carrying two white shopping bags and a pair of white, knee-high go-go boots under one arm. She was about my height, and had light brown hair and blue eyes. After giving Davy a quick kiss and getting introduced to me, she led me into the spare room (which was now my room). She dropped the bags and the books on the bed and turned around to face me, smiling.

"Davy told me about your amnesia on the phone," she said, "so I brought a few different outfits. What's your shoe size?"

"Um..." I kicked off my flip-flop and looked for the number. "The, uh, number's worn off."

She took it from me and held it up to one of the boots. She nodded. "It looks about the same. Here, try this on."

Luckily, it turned out that we both wore the same shoe and clothing size. She gave me three outfits (two of which could be worn with the white go-go boots) and a pair of pajamas. The first outfit was a black bell bottoms patterned with red and yellow daisy-like flowers, and a plain red long-sleeved shirt. The second was a green and blue horizontally-striped skirt with a blue and white plastic daisy pin on the hip, that ended at just above my knees, and a white sleeveless turtleneck sweater. The last outfit was tan, straight-legged pants with a wide black belt, and a red t-shirt. The pajamas were pale blue pants and a loose white t-shirt. She also gave me a light jacket.

"Now, your hair..." She studied me for a moment (I was wearing the turtleneck outfit), then pulled a hairbrush and a thick, green ribbon out of one of the shopping bags. "There's a few other colors in the bag, but I think green's the best for that skirt." She brushed out my hair and tied it back like a headband. "There. Now I need to take you shopping."

I turned to look at her. "For what?"

She laughed lightly. "Well, I can't exactly give you any of my brassieres and panties!"

I mentally kicked myself. Of course. "I don't have any money."

She patted my knee. "Don't worry about it. You can't exactly ask the boys to pay for your underwear. And you may eventually need _certain toiletries_," I nodded to show I understood, "and a toothbrush, toothpaste, that kind of stuff. Makeup too." She stood up.

"Thanks for all this, Melanie," I said, standing up as well. "I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

"Don't mention it." She led me toward the door. "Now it's time to go shopping."

* * *

Melanie dropped me off at the Pad around four o'clock, with bags of underwear, socks, and bathroom stuff. Melanie had also bought me a pair of red canvas sneakers and some red and orange love beads as my Christmas present. Micky was on the couch watching TV when I walked in. The others were nowhere to be seen.

"Hey Audrey," Micky said, not looking away from the screen. "Did you have fun shopping?"

"Yeah," I said, taking off my jacket. "Where is everyone?"

Micky shrugged. Then he looked up at me. "Oh, did you want to go down to the record shop now?"

"Sure, just let me change." I headed for my room. "I don't think I like skirts much."

A few minutes later, I was dressed in the tan pants and red shirt, plus my new red shoes and love beads. I pulled my jacket on as I followed Micky out to the garage. He pulled up the garage door, and I stared in awe at the Monkee Mobile.

"Wow," was all I could say.

Micky laughed. "Groovy, isn't it?" I nodded. "Come on."

A five-minute car ride later (during which Micky told me as much as possible about the current music scene), Micky parked outside the record shop. The outside of the place was painted with bright, swirling colors, and the sign above the door read in a font that screamed sixties, "Atomic Music." There was a help wanted sign taped near the door, and Micky pulled it down and handed it to me as we walked inside.

I followed Micky between rows of LP records to the register at the back of the store, where a man I recognized vaguely from _The Monkees_ pilot episode sat writing something down on a yellow legal pad.

"Hey Rudy!" greeted Micky, and the man looked up.

"Hi Mick," he said, and put the pad aside. "You looking for a record?"

Micky shook his head. "No, Audrey here's looking for a job," he said, gesturing at me. I handed Rudy the help wanted sign. "Audrey, this is Rudy Gunther."

Rudy smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

_Crap,_ I thought. "Uh – "

"Dolenz," Micky offered suddenly, and I tried to keep myself from giving him a strange look. "She's my cousin, from San Francisco."

Rudy frowned at him. "I didn't know you had any cousins."

Micky just smiled. "Neither did I."

Rudy just rolled his eyes at Micky's strangeness and shook my hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dolenz."

"Uh, thanks," I said nervously. "You too."

"So you want the job?" he asked, and I nodded. "What sort of experience do you have?"

I thought of the job I had at Best Buy in Montana, but decided it would be best not to mention an electronics store that I was pretty sure wouldn't exist for a few more decades. "This'll be my first job."

Rudy nodded. "Okay, so what's your bag?"

I frowned, though I knew very well what 'bag' meant. "'Bag'?"

"What sort of music are you into?" he clarified.

"Oh." I tried to remember which bands Micky had mentioned in the car. "Well, the Beatles, the Beach Boys, the Birds, We Five, the Temptations..."

I trailed off when Rudy nodded. "Okay, you can have the job."

I grinned. "Wow, really?"

"Yeah. You can start on tomorrow at eleven. I'll pay you $1.25 an hour."

After sorting out a few other details with Rudy, Micky and I headed back to the pad. "How'd it go?" Mike asked when we walked in. It was almost five o'clock, and Peter was stirring something in a pot on the stove. Davy was looking for something to watch on TV, and Mike was reading at the kitchen table while keeping an eye on Peter.

"I got the job," I said happily. I was surprised it had been so easy. "I start tomorrow at eleven."

Micky sat next to Davy on the couch. "Hey, if anyone asks, she's Audrey Dolenz, my cousin from San Francisco."

Mike frowned at him. "What d'ya mean? Didn't you tell Rudy she has amnesia?"

"Would you hire a girl who can't remember anything about music at a record store?"

"Oh. Good point."

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_**Author's Note:** That's all for now. Leave a review! I heart you all!_


	4. Tradition

Clock in the Sky

Chapter Four

_Tradition_

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_**Author's Note:**__ Sorry this took so long. I was having an absolutely horrible time writing my research paper, which has to be at least eight pages long (cringe). The next paper we have to write for that class will be a movie or music review. Hopefully, my teacher will let me do it on _Head_, and that won't be quite as hard. If I can't do _Head _(as it is 39 years old), I'll probably do it on one of the re-released Monkees albums. _

_Hey, let me know how you think I'm writing the Monkees' characters. I hope it's all right. Right now I'm working on chapter seven, and it's sort of almost done. _

_My mom threw her back out on Easter. My poor mommy! She went to the doctor on Wednesday, and they put her on Vicodin. I hope she doesn't get addicted to it like Dr. House from the TV series _House_. _

Kerri: _Yay! My first reviewer! (hugs) Thank you very much! To interacting with Audrey more: Oh, the things I have planned! Muahaha! Ahem. Anyway, do you mean how long until the Monkees find out about Audrey? 'Cause you said "she", and I don't get what you meant by that. If you did mean the Monkees, I can't tell you when! That would ruin the ending! I think it's a pretty good ending, too. A very nice, unexpected twist. I'm evil aren't I? _

bobthebuilder: _Hey, you oughta be nice to the person writing the story. You never know what could happen...muahaha! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own Kellogg's Rice Krispies, CBS, _The Beverly Hillbillies_, or Chevron. _

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_**Author's Note Part II (02/13/09):** This chapter I started mixing things up a bit. I took some from chapter five, so if you've read it before, you might be a little confused. _

_**Disclaimer Part II:** I found a picture of the 1965 CBS logo on Wikipedia. _

* * *

It was almost five in the morning. I had woken up around midnight, and when I realized I was still at the Monkees' pad, that it hadn't just been a dream, I just lay there, slowly beginning to accept the fact that I might be stuck in 1965 with no way to get home. I would not be spending Christmas with my family as I had planned, but in a fictional beach house with four fictional boys. If it hadn't been for that damned locket...

_The locket!_ I thought suddenly, sitting up. _If that locket brought me here, then it can take me back._

Guessing that it was probably still on the beach, I got out of bed and put on my jacket and my shoes. Quietly, I crept out of my room and closed the door. I was the only one downstairs, so I assumed the guys were still sleeping. After checking to make sure I wouldn't get locked out, I slipped out onto the veranda and headed down to the beach.

The sky was slowly getting lighter, and the beach was deserted. I thought for a moment about which direction the rocks would be in. The rocks had been shown a few times on _Monkees_ episodes, but I still didn't know how to get to them. Taking a guess, I started walking up the beach. It was about ten minutes before I finally came across a cluster of rocks that looked familiar. After nearly forty-five minutes of desperately searching the sand for the locket, I gave up and sat on a particularly flat rock with my head in my hands.

That locket had been my only hope, but now it was gone, probably picked up by some kid who wanted to meet the Partridge Family. I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with the Monkees, as much as I liked them. I had family and friends waiting for me.

I spent a while looking out at the ocean and brooding about my predicament, before I got up and headed back to the pad. Mike, who was sitting at the kitchen table in his pajamas eating cereal and reading the morning paper, looked up when I came in.

"Where were you?" he asked. I glanced at the clock on the wall, which read seven thirty. I'd been gone longer than I thought.

I sat down across from him. "I, uh, went for a walk on the beach," I said. "What's that you're eating?"

"Rice Krispies. You want some?"

I nodded. "Sure." He brought me the cereal box, a bowl, and the milk, and I made a mental note of where he got it all. "Thanks," I said, and began preparing a bowl.

He nodded in acknowledgement and continued eating and reading. After a moment, he asked, "You work at eleven today, right?"

"Oh, yeah." I had nearly forgotten.

He looked at me over the top of the paper. "Do you need a ride?"

I shook my head. "I can walk. I paid attention when Micky drove me yesterday."

"The guys and I were gonna get a Christmas tree today." I took another bite of my cereal. This obviously wasn't the second season Christmas episode, since they weren't babysitting that rich kid, whatever his name was, who had been played by Butch Patrick. "Did Rudy say when you get done?"

"Six."

"Well, do you want to come with? We can meet you at the record store then."

I smiled slightly. "Okay. It sounds like fun."

Once I finished my cereal, Mike helped me with the TV (which I really did need help with, since there were so many knobs that I didn't know which to turn). He set it on CBS, which was showing a repeat of _The Beverly Hillbillies_. I was rather amused with the CBS logo. The letters in 'CBS' were green, blue, and red, and the yellow CBS eye was at the end.

Peter, Micky, and Davy didn't come downstairs until ten, I left at ten-thirty. On the way, I marveled to myself at the cheap prices. The cheapest gas price was $0.29, at a Chevron station. A movie theater was advertising its ticket price of $1.50 as "the cheapest ticket in town!"

At the store, I spent the morning stocking records and making sure all the records were in their proper places. I had lunch with Lynne, a girl about my age I worked with, at a McDonald's down the street. Marveling to myself about the lack of choices and cheap prices, I bought a cheeseburger and a Coca-Cola with the dollar Mike had given me for lunch.

"So," said Lynne, as we sat down in a booth, "Rudy told me you're related to one of the Monkees?"

"Yeah," I said, opening my Coke. "I'm Micky's cousin."

She unwrapped her hamburger. "He's the drummer, isn't he?" I nodded. "I haven't met them yet, but I've seen them play at the Cassandra. Micky's kinda cute." She took a bite.

I shrugged. I'd never been able to decide on a favorite Monkee. I couldn't exactly pick Micky, since I was supposed to be his cousin, and it would be a little weird if I thought my cousin was hot. "They've got a gig at the Cassandra tomorrow night," I said. "If you're not busy, you could come with me and I could introduce you."

She smiled. "That sounds groovy. How 'bout I meet you there at seven?" I agreed, and we finished eating and then headed back to work.

At six, after Rudy let me off, the boys met me outside the shop. We walked to the Christmas tree lot, singing Christmas carols all the way.

We picked out a small tree and then headed back to the pad, Mike and Micky carrying the tree. The tree was placed in the middle of the pad, and I helped Peter bring the ornaments and other decorations in from the garage. Davy put on an album of Christmas music by someone I didn't recognize, and we set to trimming the tree. Everything was going great until Davy decided that he wanted to put the star on top of the tree.

"You're too short, Davy," insisted Micky, who was taping some silver garland to the balcony railing. I giggled.

"Well, this is a small tree," Davy reasoned, giving Micky an annoyed look. "And we've got a ladder."

Mike sighed. "All right. Peter, hold on to the ladder so he don't fall on the tree."

Peter handed me the ornament he had been about to hang and went to hold the ladder. Mike and I stood back to watch, and I doubted that anything would happen if Peter was holding the ladder. But, of course, these guys were the Monkees, so it was bound to happen. Davy somehow managed to hit the tree with his hand so that it fell toward me. I instinctively jumped back, running into Mike, who was caught off guard, and we both fell to the ground in a pile. The ornament fell from my hand, and since it was plastic and not glass, it rolled away.

Peter immediately went to help us up. "Are you two all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "Sorry, Mike."

"It's fine." He looked over at Micky, who had slid down the railing, laughing. "It's not that funny, Mick."

"Oh, but it is!" he said, helping Davy pick up the tree. "You have to kiss Audrey now."

Everyone stared at him. "What?" I asked, completely confused. "He has to kiss me for knocking him over?" Society hadn't changed that much since the 60's, had it?

"No, no, no," he said. "You're under the mistletoe, it's a tradition."

Mike and I both looked up. Taped innocently to the underside of the balcony above our heads was a small sprig of mistletoe.

"Where did you get it?" Mike asked. I remembered the time Micky thought he found holly and mistletoe, but it was really poison ivy.

"At the corner store. It's plastic, and it was only a quarter." He grinned at us expectantly. "Well, go on, kiss her!"

My face was burning with embarrassment, and I knew it, which didn't help at all. Mike gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and then said, "There. Now let's finish with the tree. I'd like to get some rehearsal in today."

Micky had a lot of fun with the whole mistletoe thing for the rest of the day. By the time I went to bed that night, I had kissed each of them at least once (Davy had cornered me under it twice, and Peter seemed to keep forgetting to look out for it). I smiled to myself as I turned out the light and got into bed. _That girl was right,_ I thought, thinking of _Head_, the Monkees movie. _It is about the same._

* * *

_**Author's Note:** I sure hope I didn't disappoint you people. This isn't my favorite chapter. You'll know which is my favorite chapter when we get to it._


	5. Discotheque

Clock in the Sky

Chapter Five

_Discothèque_

* * *

_**Author's Note (10/14/09):** This chapter was originally meant to be chapter six, but I started moving things around, and I had to put the Cassandra gig before Christmas. So, what was chapter five is now chapter six. _

_**Quote of the Chapter:**__ "It's too deep! I can't see!" – Davy, _Head _(1968). _

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own Coca-Cola or the Beatles' song "Yesterday." I also don't own the Beatles' movies Hard Day's Night or Help!, though I do have both on DVD. _

* * *

_"Cheer up Sleepy Jean. Oh, what can it mean to a daydream believer and a homecoming queen?"_

I drank some of my Coke in an attempt to keep from singing along with Davy. It was getting tougher. "Daydream Believer" was one of my favorite songs.

It was the day before Christmas, and I was sitting at a table near the stage in the Club Cassandra while the Monkees played. They were all wearing their red eight-button shirts and grey slacks. I glanced at a clock on the wall. _Seven o'clock,_ I thought. _Lynne should be here pretty soon._

I was getting pretty bored sitting there by myself. One guy had asked me to dance, but I politely declined (as cute as he was), saying I was waiting for someone. The truth was, I didn't know anything about sixties-style dancing. I was a fairly decent dancer in 2005, but I really didn't feel like inventing any new dance moves.

I clapped along with everyone else as the guys finished "Daydream Believer" and started "Mary, Mary." I glanced at the clock again, and then rolled my eyes at myself. Only two minutes had passed. I turned my attention back to the stage, to where Micky was singing lead.

_"This one thing I will vow ya, I'd rather die than to live without ya."_

Peter caught my eye and grinned. I smiled back and gave him a little wave. Then a hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped.

Lynne sat down in the chair next to me. "Sorry," she said over the music, "didn't mean to startle you."

I smiled. "It's fine."

She hailed a passing waitress. "Root beer, please," she said. The waitress nodded and hurried off. Lynne turned back to me with a smile. "So how are they doing?"

"Great," I said, glancing up at the stage. "I think they're taking a break after their next song." As soon as I said it, Peter began the familiar opening riff of "I'm a Believer."

While Lynne and I waited for the guys to finish their set, we talked. Lynne asked me what it was like in San Francisco, and I had to remember everything I knew from social studies classes, as I'd never really been there. I was trying to make up something about an imaginary trip to Chinatown when Mike, Micky, Davy, and Peter joined us.

I smiled at them. "Great job, guys."

"Thanks, Aud," Micky grinned, then turned from me to Lynne. "Who's your friend?"

"This is the girl I told you about, Lynne Hurley. Lynne, this is Micky Dolenz, Peter Tork, Davy Jones, and Mike Nesmith."

Lynne shook each of their hands, and I noticed she lingered a bit with Micky. "You guys are really great," she said, smiling. "I'm surprised some record producer hasn't snatched you up yet."

The four of them smiled, obviously pleased with the compliment. "Well, thanks," Mike said.

The rest of the night went well. After chatting about random things for a few minutes, the boys returned to the stage. While they were playing, Lynne managed to get me out on the dance floor. I tried to copy what she and others around me were doing, while trying not to slip into anything too 21st century.

Once the guys finished their set, they packed everything back into the Monkee Mobile and then returned to mingle and dance to the records playing from a jukebox. Davy had disappeared with a pretty blond girl, and Micky had asked Lynne to dance, which seemed to make her very happy. Mike, Peter, and I were sitting at our table. I smiled as I watched Micky and Lynne dancing, glad that he seemed to like her.

Mike stood up. "I'm gonna go get a beer," he said, and headed for the bar.

I frowned at Peter. "I didn't know any of you drank," I said, genuinely surprised.

"Mike'll have a beer every once in a while," Peter said. "The rest of us don't like it."

I smiled as I listened to the Beatles' "Hard Day's Night" as it started playing. "I like this one, I heard it at work yesterday." I drank some more of what was my third Coke, yet another attempt at keeping myself from singing along with a song I shouldn't know if I had amnesia.

"Did you know the Beatles have done two movies?" Peter asked. I shook my head, even though I knew they would do three more. He grinned. "_Hard Day's Night_ came out last year, and _Help!_ came out this year. They were both good, but I think I liked _Help!_ better. It was in color."

Suddenly, from across the room came a girl's scream. I stood and turned toward it, my heart racing. A small crowd had already formed, and I was too short to see what had happened. Peter was tall enough to see over people's heads.

"Isn't that the girl Davy was with earlier?" he asked.

I stood on my toes in an attempt to see, but to no avail. "I can't see."

"Blond, yellow dress?"

I nodded. "That's her." I headed for the disturbance, wondering what Davy had gotten himself into, and Peter followed. The crowd was starting to disperse, and I noticed Davy's girl walking away with some huge guy that looked a bit like Bulk from "I Was A 99-lb Weakling". Davy was on the ground, holding one hand over his left eye. Mike was already there, helping him up.

"Are you _trying_ to get us fired?" Mike demanded.

"I didn't know she had a boyfriend!" Davy exclaimed. "She didn't act like she did!"

Micky showed up with Lynne. "Davy, man, what happened to you?" Micky asked.

"Some cat saw me dancing with his girl, so he hit me!"

Lynne raised an eyebrow. "Why were you dancing with someone else's girl?"

Davy shrugged Mike's hand off his shoulder. "I didn't know!"

I tried not to laugh. Of course something like this would happen to Davy.

"All right," Mike said finally. "I think Davy's drawn enough attention to himself tonight." He tossed the car keys to Micky. "Let's get outta here."

* * *

That night, I was jolted out of my sleep when I heard my bedroom door slam. I sat up in bed, my heart hammering, listening. I was just about to try to go back to sleep, thinking I had imagined it, when I heard another door close. Deciding to check it out, I grabbed the large, old-fashioned (for me, anyway) metal flashlight from under the bed and crept out of my room.

The pad was quiet. The moon shined in through the bay windows and lit up the room, which appeared to be empty. Still a bit freaked out, I held the flashlight up like a club and headed for the bandstand. I suddenly thought I heard someone move behind me, and I spun around, looking toward the front door. I didn't see anything, so I turned back to face the bandstand, only to find someone standing behind me. I gasped and raised the flashlight.

The person took a step back, knocking over the hi-hat, which hit the floor with a deafening crash. "Audrey, it's me, Micky!"

I lowered the flashlight. "Micky?!" I exclaimed, not bothering to keep my voice down. "What are you doing? Were you in my room?"

He looked confused and a little offended. "What? No! I came down to get a drink of water, and I saw you."

A door opened and a light went on upstairs. "What the devil're y'all doin'?" came a sleepy and annoyed drawl. Mike was looking over the balcony, Peter and Davy (his eye almost swollen shut) on either side of him. All of them looked half-asleep. "'S one in the mornin'!"

"Somebody was in my room!"

"Again, it's _one in the mornin'_!" Mike repeated, with great emphasis on the time. "Who'd be in your room at one in the mornin'?"

"How the heck should I know?!" I asked, throwing up my arms in exasperation. Micky took a step away from the flashlight that I was still holding, but I barely noticed. "I woke up when I heard my door slam, and then I heard another door close – "

"Hey, I heard a door slam too," said Micky suddenly, beginning to look nervous. Mike sighed and made his way down the stairs, Peter and Davy following. "I just thought I imagined it, and then I came down to get some water."

"Both of you were just imaginin' things!" Mike insisted. "Now, go back – "

"Wait!" Peter exclaimed, suddenly looking very awake. "If Audrey and Micky both heard a door slam, and the door that Audrey heard close was Micky leaving our room to get water, then wouldn't that mean that whoever was in Audrey's room is still here?"

There was a short, tense silence.

"Oh – this is gettin' stupid!" Mike finally exploded. "Everybody go back to bed! We'll talk about this in the mornin'!"

I hesitated for a moment. "Fine," I said, heading back to my room. "'Night." I didn't wait for anyone to answer me.

As soon as I closed my door, I noticed it. One of the drawers of the dresser I kept my clothes in was open slightly. A leg of what I recognized to be my capris from 2005 was hanging out. Filled with a dark sense of foreboding, I went to the dresser and picked up the capris. For a moment, I wondered what anyone would want with my capris. Then it hit me. Panicking, I stuck my hand into the right back pocket. I paled when I found nothing. I checked the other pockets and dug around in the drawer, but had no luck.

My Montana driver's license was gone.

I sat down on the end of my bed, beginning to feel sick. Whoever had been in my room had my driver's license. They would know the truth once they saw my birth date. _This has gone too far,_ I decided. I needed to find that locket and get home, before someone like the CIS found out about me. I sighed and ran my fingers through my loose hair. If only I knew where to look.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**__ This one is among my favorite chapters, but it's not THE favorite. That one is still yet to come. And I'm still not going to tell you when it's coming, either. I'm mean, I know. But _maybe_ if you give me some really nice reviews, I'll tell you when it's coming!_


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